


Little Bit of Spit and Polish

by Jeevey



Category: British Comedy RPF, Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds (Band), Oasis (Band)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26671336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeevey/pseuds/Jeevey
Summary: August 2007. Sometimes things just happen.
Relationships: Noel Gallagher/Russell Brand
Comments: 25
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my wonderful friend Pia, an amazing and generous real-life friend who lurks here sometimes, who thoughtfully reads my stories even though she doesn't like the sexytimes parts, and who once gave me a very memorable phrase that appears here.

Russell has a new house. It’s huge and gorgeous, all white inside and mostly empty. He’ll get around to buying furniture soon, or rather paying somebody to do it with a few breezy instructions. But for now there’s very little in it. Upstairs there’s three empty bedrooms and one giant white bed. There’s a steel kitchen with an island, no table. There’s a sofa and a giant television on the stone hearth, and there’s Noel Gallagher sprawled on the carpet next to a half empty case of red wine.

Preseason football plays on the television with the sound turned down. Noel is poking uselessly at Russell’s brand-new iPhone. “I don’t get it,” he says. 

“It’s just like an mp3 player, but it also makes calls. Poke the thingy that looks like a music note and it takes you to the music,” Russell explains.

“Yeah, I don’t get those either.”

“What, mp3 players or music notes?”

“Both. Fucking stupid,” Noel says, trying and failing to make the touchscreen work. 

Russell looks at him. “You’re a musician, you must use music notes.”

“Nope, it’s like looking at them Egyptian things,” Noel shrugs. “I never learned to read music.”

“But mp3 players, they’ve been around forever. You must use one, it’s so convenient.”

“Convenient to have--to _theoretically_ have—music that sounds like shit even when you're not playing on speakers the size of a fucking bean? No thanks. You need to get a decent stereo in this place.” Noel tosses the silver slab aside and reaches for the bottle of wine. He refills both their glasses and places the empty bottle next to the others beside the television.

Russell leans back against the sofa. “You know what this day needs,” he says meditatively, “is some girls. Big squishy tits and a nice bottom, you know? What do you think? I could call Maria and she could have someone over here in twenty minutes.”

“Sorry mate, my missus would kill me,” Noel says.

“Really? But you do table dances and that.”

Noel shakes his head. “Two different things to a woman.”

Russell sighs. “I guess so. Besides I shouldn’t, because I’m all recovered now, right.” He pauses for several seconds, then shifts restlessly. “But now that I’ve thought of it I’ve got a hard-on the size of Sweden.”

Noel lifts his head to look. “Sweden? This I’ve got to see.” Russell twists away, but Noel gets up on his knees, laughing. “Wait, no. Is that for real? You didn’t just stick a wine bottle in your trousers?”

Russell sighs dramatically. “It’s a _burden_ , Noel. It’s very hard to live with this level of relentless, raging libido.”

“You just think your libido is special because you only have sex with women,” Noel says, settling back with his glass. “A woman will tell you that more often than every second Tuesday is unnatural--unless she’s being paid to tell you differently. Besides, what do you need to call anybody for? There’s two of us.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“What, you and me?”

“Yeah, you see how you over there and me over here, that makes two people?”

“Fuck off. I mean you’re telling me that your girlfriend says it _isn’t_ okay to sleep with prostitutes but it _is_ okay to do it with men?”

Noel shrugs. “Well, I’m not going to fall in love and leave her for one anyway.”

Russell turns on his side to look at him. Noel looks calmly at the television, as if nothing unusual has been said. Russell’s gaze turns keen. “You have though, haven’t you. You have too fallen in love with a man before.”

“Well it’s unlikely in this case at least” Noel says acidly. “There’s your personality to be considered, after all.”

“I know.” Russell sighs. “It’s true. I've practiced being obnoxious for so long I don’t know how to stop it anymore. Believe me, it doesn’t actually make seducing women any easier either. If it wasn't for the money and the looks and the giant cock I could hardly pull a girl at all. But….so that’s it, you’re just allowed to fuck men.”

“On occasion,” Noel says. “When the alternative is worse. Like now, for instance. She’s about twenty-three months pregnant and I can assure you she--”

“But do you like it? I mean, are you bisexual?” Russell interrupts. 

“Well I don’t know what that means,” Noel says, and changes the subject. “Are you seriously telling me you’ve really never done it with a man?”

“What are you talking about, of course I haven’t done it with a man,” Russell says disdainfully.

“You’re joking.”

“Joking, why would I joke? Do I look like a closeted queer?” Russell gestures down at himself.

“You look like you like to shag men, is what you look like,” Noel says frankly.

“I like to have sex, full stop. But men...What do I need men for? I’m funny, pretty good looking, and I’ve got a lot of money. That means I’ve got women.” Russell spins his fingers in the air. “Like...women. As in many.”

“Uh huh,” Noel says. He looks around the room to observe all the many women, then back at Russell’s trousers.

“Oh all _right_. I see what you’re up to with your lascivious looks over there. I see you’ve got your heart set on it. _Fine._.” Russell wriggles down to lie flat on his back and looks up at Noel expectantly.

“Go on, then,” Noel tells him.

“Go on, what?”

“Go on and clean up. Don’t you take a shower first?”

“When I’m with a prostitute, of course. That’s just manners. But with an ordinary woman they want you to do this disrobing thing, you know. Like Christmas.” Russell mimed pulling out ribbons and lifting a lid with a face of amazed delight. “Like you’ve never seen one before.”

“Well, if that’s what you do with a woman. But with me you get fucking clean.” Noel fixes him with a look until Russell sighs.

“Fine, whatever. We can do it your weird gay way, but I’ll tell you right now it’s going to do things to my hair. Getting it wet makes the curl come out like mad.” He clambers to his feet and goes down the hall, still talking. It isn’t until a door shuts behind him that Noel’s face cracks in a private smile.

He’s back in just a few minutes in a violet-white robe and expensive-looking briefs. Noel laughs out loud at the sight of him. 

“There stands a man who doesn’t like to unwrap presents,” he says.

“I fucking love opening presents, I’ll have you know. Just not when there’s a compulsory reaction, like your old Aunt Betty giving you a Christmas jumper. Should we do it in the bed?”

Noel adjusts himself thoughtfully. “Bed’s a bit romantic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. We’ll do it here then. Go on, your turn.”

Noel pads jauntily to the shower and returns towelling his hair in his t-shirt and jeans. 

“Did you just put your dirty clothes back on?” Russell demands. 

“Not the underwear, of course,” Noel says, insulted. He sits back down on the carpet and crosses his bare feet. “I’m freeballing it, me.” 

“Oh. Well. Now that’s an interesting image,” Russell murmurs. Then guardedness drops over his face. “Wait a minute. We don’t have to do the butt thing, do we?”

Noel rolls his eyes. “No, Russell. We do not have to do the butt thing, as charming as you make it sound.”

“We’re all good then. How do we start?” Russell asks.

“Take off your clothes and let me think about it,” Noel suggests. 

“Not yet, because you’re just going to laugh about my dick. It’s not about you, alright? It’s just sex. I’m a sex addict, Noel. You say fuck and I say how hard, okay? I can’t help it.”

Noel nods. He’s leaned back against the sofa with one knee drawn up and two hands folded behind his head, but there’s a keen look in his eyes. Russell’s body is long and brown under the white robe, surprisingly broad across the chest and muscled in the thighs. Noel says nothing, but looks at him while long seconds tick by. “How do you like to start?” he asks at last.

“I like it when she straddles me and lets me feel her tits,” Russell replies promptly.

“Alright.” Noel climbs across Russell’s lap. Then he pulls off his t-shirt and tosses it to the side. “Go on,” he says.

Russell stares by Noel’s bare chest. His hands move to Noel’s hips, unthinking, and he spends several seconds looking. “Kinda hairy,” he ventures at last, but his eyes don’t stray from the planes of Noel’s body.

“Go on,” Noel says again, and seats himself on Russell’s thighs.

Russell frowns and places his thumbs just below Noel’s nipples. They’re pale tan-pink, surrounded by a loose net of body hair specked with gray. Under it his skin gleams like pearls. Russell pushes upward experimentally, watching how it slides over muscle, then thumbs the nipple itself and watches it harden and rise. “You’ve got nice skin,” he says quietly, and brings his mouth to touch it. It’s fuzzy, and he feels his way until he finds smoothness on the outer regions of his chest. He pauses there, nuzzling and breathing deeply. His fingers close gently around Noel’s ribs. 

Noel makes a quiet sound. He opens his mouth several times before he gets out the words, “All right?” 

“Smells funny,” Russell says without lifting his head. He’s got his nose buried in Noel’s underarm and the opposite nipple rolled tight in his fingers.

“Uh huh.” It could be skepticism or it could be distraction that makes Noel sound short and breathy, but he gathers up Russell’s hair and twists it, pulling his face away from his chest.

“No kissing,” Russell warns.

“No _kissing?_ ”

“No mouth kisses anyway.”

“Aren’t we fussy,” Noel says. Then he tips Russell’s head back and comes down hard on his exposed neck. He lays big masculine kisses all down his throat. There’s nothing leisurely about it. He’s got Russell’s hair twisted around his fist and he kisses, not hurriedly, but with force and intent. Soon Russell’s neck is dusky pink, and he begins to shift restlessly.

“Mm?” Noel asks.

“S’good,” 

“Yeah,” Noel breathes. Now that they’ve begun he rapidly settles in. He palms Russell’s shoulders, lifting the long ropes of muscle to squeeze and release and grip again. His hips tip forward, and every time his hands close on Russell’s body he rocks forward, brushing his jeans against Russell’s bare thighs. He smiles when Russells hands drop to his hips. Then he goes in hard just behind the point of Russell’s jaw.

“Christ, Noel.” Russell jerks like a fish on a string. Noel makes a deep noise of approval. Then he moves back and yanks hard on Russell’s knees until he’s lying flat on his back.

“Get that stuff off,” he orders. His hands move abruptly to his own jeans.

“We’re really doing this then,” Russell says. He’s rock hard and flushed, and he doesn’t look worried, just curious. Noel pauses and looks down his own half-exposed abdomen.

“I’m certainly fucking doing it,” he says. “Are you in?”

“Damn. Yeah, I’m in.”

“Good,” Noel says. He finishes with the jeans while Russell shrugs out of his things. Then he rolls fluidly onto his belly and swallows Russell’s cock without a pause. Russell hisses like he’s been stung. 

Noel doesn’t muck about with preliminary teasing; he takes it all the way down three times slowly, breathing deeply through his nose and making a sound of satisfaction that rumbles through the empty house. He sucks dick like he’s been hungry for it. His shoulders hunch and roll as he settles on his elbows and pulls back to lip at the head, rubs his tongue over the underside. Russell moans. Noel takes it out and clears his throat to say, “You’ve got a nice cock, mate.” 

“So they tell me,” Russell says. It’s a poor impression of his usual insouciance. He’s propped on his elbows, staring at Noel’s dark-and-silver head and pearly shoulders. Noel’s mouth quirks. He looks up and for a moment his face shows clearly; heavy brows and laugh lines, sharp ridge of a nose, high cheeks stained red. Then he pushes Russells knee to the side and begins burying deep kisses in the crease between his balls and thigh. Russell makes an incoherent noise, then something that approaches words.

“Pardon?”

“I said you’re brilliant,” Russell repeats with difficulty.

“Clearly,” Noel says, and sucks hard at his taint. Russell’s knees jerk up and he swears explosively. His feet hang in the air by Noel’s shoulders, rocking in dim pleasure.

“Christ, that’s nice. That’s…” He trails off.

“D’ y’ like a finger?” Noel asks.

“Just touching. Not inside.”

Noel nods in understanding and lets his fingers skim over the tender territory of Russell’s inner buttock. Then he licks a finger and strokes his hole just as he folds his cock back into his mouth. Russell gives a long open-mouthed moan. Noel lets him stay there for long minutes, rocking between his mouth and fingers, taking him in deeper each time, watching his breathing change and his balls draw close.

“Do you want to come like this?”

“I need to,” Russell says tightly.

“Fuck.” Noel gropes for Russell’s hand and places it on his head. Russell sighs at the big solid feeling of his skull and feels around for a spot long enough to grasp Noel’s hair. 

“Oh yeah,” he says when he gets it. He’s propped on one elbow, looking down his body at Noel poised over his cock. “Just like that.” Noel’s hand touches his where it rests on his head for a fleeting moment, then he goes back to work.

Russell makes no effort to restrain the motion of his hips now, rolling forward to meet the deep plunge of Noels mouth and pulling back so far that the air is marked with the sound of broken suction. It sounds like kissing. Noel lets him in smoothly, encouraging him upward with his fingers and letting the wetness slide down each time he pulls away. He growls, and the meaning is clear: _Come on._

Just a few more thrusts and Russell tugs his hair urgently. Noel slides off just in time to let the silver spurt arc forward. Russell thrusts hard through Noel’s fist and collapses, panting. Noel crawls forward and straddles Russell’s stomach without hesitation. He stares unabashedly, taking in Russell’s flushed brown body, the chest hair beaded with sweat and come. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, that is,” he says, and takes his cock in hand.

“Fucking hell, Noel. You look amazing.”

Noel nods. Then he drops until his balls drag in Russell’s come and begins to stroke. Russell’s eyes go wide at the utter shamelessness as Noel begins to dry ride him. Noel’s eyes drop shut in pleasure. His nostrils flare and shudder as his thighs flex. “Christ, that’s good,” he says.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Russell murmurs. “That’s fucking hot.” 

Noel grins and cants his hips to get his hole down in it, grunts as he makes contact. Russell makes an unintelligible noise. His eyes are huge, his hands spread wide over Noel’s thighs as he stares. 

“You can touch it,” Noel says. “Go on. It’s just a bit of dick, is all. Not gonna bite you.” 

Russell grins crookedly. He licks his thumb and runs it across the slit as it emerges from Noel’s fist. Noel sighs in pleasure. Soon Russell has made a little cup of his palm, and the wet tip of Noel’s cock presses into it with every stroke.

“That’s good,” Noel says thickly. He begins to breathe heavily through his mouth. “Oh fuck. It’s really, really good. Jesus--” He grasps Russell’s hand and forms it in a ring around his cock. Russell gasps but doesn’t pull away. He stares unblinking for a long moment, watching the smooth wrinkles slide in and out of his fist. Then he presses sharply upward with his hips to push Noel forward into his fist.

“Oh god,” Noel gasps. He pulls back and lets Russell shove him forward again, his belly tight and heaving. His fingers dig hard into Russell’s wrist. His head tips back, and the moan echoes through the whole house as he lets go.

Noel rolls onto the floor, gasping and laughing. “Fucking hell,” he says, groping for the towel. “Fucking hell.” He dabs at them both and tucks it under his hips. “That was brilliant.”

Russell grins. “Was it?” For the first time he looks a little shy.

“Yes,” Noel says emphatically.

A pleased smile crosses Russell’s face, followed quickly by a flash of thought. “I did want your hair a bit longer,” he says.

“Oh. Well, I want you to get rid of that stupid beard.” 

“Oh. Fine.”

“Fine.”

There’s a short pool of silence. Then Russell says, “Is this for real, though? Like, all that….stuff you have to do to get sex with a woman, you might not even have to do it? You and me could just be hanging out like we do, and you’d go, Hey Russell, want to have it off? and I’d be like Fuck yes Noel, I’d love to have it off, and that would be it?”

“That’s the idea, yeah,” Noel says.

“And you don’t really have to do the butt thing at all?”

“No. But don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Wait, does that mean you like to take it up the--”

“D’ y’ know what the best thing about sex with men is, though?” Noel interrupts.

“No, what.”

“They fucking shut up and go to sleep when it’s done.”

Russell opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it. “Oh. Well, I guess I can take a hint then--” Noel’s blue t-shirt lands in a puddle on his face. He tucks it under his head for a pillow and rolls onto his side to look at Noel. Noel’s hand tucked under his head, face tipped to the ceiling and long throat exposed. 

“You did look pretty, though,” Russell says. “I wasn’t lying.”

Noel flicks a look at him, surprised and pleased. “Oh. Yeah, same.” 

Russell says nothing in reply, but his face flashes with pleasure for just a moment before he closes his eyes, angelically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken some liberties with the timeline of Russell's life. His old procurer is named after the naughty Bertram sister in Jane Austen's _Mansfield Park_. For the Americans out there, this name is pronounced with a long 'i', like the Hebrew name Moriah.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kissing," Russell repeats. "I think there should be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is dedicated to another amazing real life friend, who cheered me on to do another chapter of this crazy mess.

“I think there should be kissing,” Russell says.

Noel looks up. “What?” There’s an empty takeaway container on the floor beside him. He’s curled up at one end of Russell’s grey sofa while Russell sprawls out at the other. He’s been half asleep, dark circles under his eyes showing in the lamp light.

“Kissing,” Russell repeats. “I think there should be.”

They’d had it off together a couple of times in the weeks since the baby came. There was when Noel walked Russell out to the car park for a cigarette when he came to the hospital on the night of the birth itself. There was the time Russell had come to bring Sara and the baby flowers and push Noel into a broom cupboard after they had gone back to bed, both by way of congratulations. Each time Noel had gone away with the mark between his eyebrows eased. It deepens now as he thinks.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend yet?” he asks.

Russell heaves a sigh. “It’s different once you stop shagging everything that walks, isn’t it? You have to talk to them first, and probably even after, and then it gets all complicated and you start to think, maybe I’ll just have a wrist over.”

“I’m familiar,” Noel says.

Not much has changed about Russell’s house. There’s a large stereo in the corner by the windows, with an mp3 player sitting on top of one of the tall speakers. There’s a couple of wine-velvet pillows on the sofa and a blanket tossed over its back. 

“All very well for you to say, but it’s against my nature. Continence doesn’t come naturally to me, Noel.”

“Fucking… _what_ doesn’t come naturally?”

“Continence, Noel. Sexual restraint. Celibacy. Refraining from fornication.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t. I don’t think that’s just you though, is it.”

“Don’t know, don’t care. It doesn’t to me. You know what does come naturally though? A--”

“Yeah I do,” Noel interrupts, holding up a hand. “I’ve got it.”

Russell falls silent for a moment, then says, “It don’t to you, either.”

Noel blows dismissively through his lips. “I’m too fucking tired to shag. People keep telling me this baby’s gonna sleep someday, but I ain’t seen it yet.” Russell says nothing. Noel’s brows draw even further together until finally he says, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Fucking nothing, right. If I live to see the day you’ve got nothing to say--”

“I just think you’d sleep better with a shag, is all.” 

Noel grunts.

“Right. I mean you would, right?” Russell persists.

“Obviously.” Noel deliberately closes his eyes. But in about three seconds they’re open again, speculative. “So what are you saying, you’re up for it?”

“Of course I’m up for it, I was born up for it. Look at me. This is me, up.” Russell lifts his hands and looks downward.

“What, with kissing.”

“If you like.”

For a moment Noel doesn’t move. Then he gets up and walks to the bathroom without speaking. Down the hall floats the sound of singing in the shower, dimly. In a few minutes he reappears bare chested, jeans half buttoned and sliding down his hips.

“You look fantastic,” Russell says. 

Noel looks down, then cranes to look at his own backside. “A bit, yeah.”

Russell laughs. “You’re supposed to say thank you.”

Noel looks suspicious. “Why?”

“Because your lover is admiring you, that’s why. I’m getting ready to give you an outrageous orgasm, and thank you is the appropriate response.”

“Lover.” Noel stops dead in the middle of the floor. Russell is slouched down on the couch, knees splayed wide in black jeans and a wide-necked t shirt that does little to conceal his chest. “Lover,” Noel repeats.

“Well, yes. I’ve given you orgasms before, I’ll do it again and enjoy it, and you’re not paying for the pleasure.”

Noel makes a skeptical sound.

“Well, I mean you could pay me--” Russell begins.

“Fat chance. Get off the couch there and get clean.”

“Do you want to do it in the bed, though?”

“I’m gonna fall asleep if we do it in the bed,” Noel says. He’s already swaying where he stands.

“Maybe you should just have a nap then?”

“I said go get clean.”

Russell goes. Noel throws himself full length on the couch as soon as it’s empty. He appears to drop into sleep immediately, but his eyelids twitch every time a noise from Russell comes through the floor. They open again when Russell comes back shaking the water from his hair.

“You’ve got no bloody shame,” Noel observes. Russell smirks. He’s got on a pair of midnight blue silk pyjama bottoms; the color makes his skin glow like amber and the light on them catches every line of his body they are supposed to conceal.

“I never did. Do you want a little fashion show?”

“No. Just get over here.”

“Budge over, then.”

The sofa is long enough for Noel to stretch full length, but Russell has to bend to fit. They rustle and toss a bit before they end up with Noel on the inside edge, leaning on his elbow on the sofa arm and Russell on his back beside him. Nick Cave plays on the stereo. His hand dangles over Russell’s bare shoulder, quiescently.

“It’s a bit weird,” Russell says.

“Is it?”

“Shagging a mate? I think so”.

“Think back,” Noel tells him. “Wasn’t there a time when you had a friend--a schoolmate, maybe a cousin, someone on your chess team or whatever--and you kept ending up just like this? Before there were girls, I mean. When they were kind of strange faraway creatures, didn’t you ever spend hours and hours with a fella and then just realize things were...close?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And didn’t you ever have a mate where you just kept ending up, I don’t know, wrestling every five minutes, or swimming naked in the canals at night, or--or playing swords with your cocks in the school showers or something?”

“Of course. Doesn’t everybody?”

Noel shrugs. “It’s the same thing.”

Russell’s face cracks into a slow smile. “You’re mad.”

Noel looks at the ceiling, sucks his lip thoughtfully. “So, kissing. You’re sure?”

“I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t be. I’m not an innocent child, Noel. You wouldn’t believe the places my mouth has--”

Noel stops his mouth. He goes straight in for the tongue, sliding into Russell’s mouth with a hungry motion that knocks his head back until Russell catches himself and pushes back into it. The lamp glows yellow on his face as his mouth moves. Russell inhales roughly, and Noel lets him go. He waits, expressionless, while Russell blinks.

“Yeah, that works,” Russell says at last, hoarsely.

Noel grins. “Now you do it,” he says.

“Me do it?” 

“Yeah. So I know you like it.”

“I just told you I like it.”

“No, you said it works. Artificial insemination works. Combustion engines work. Heart surgery _works_.”

“Fine, then. I see I’ll have to be more precise in my speech with you, Mr. Gallagher. What I meant to say is--”

“Shut up and do it already, then.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You’re just stalling now.”

Russell pulls back to look at him. Their knees are bumped up against each other but otherwise they don’t touch. Outside there’s the rainy early-evening gloom. Inside there’s Nick Cave, and the television quietly shouts the score.

“Well I’m afraid, to tell you the truth,” Russell says. “I’m afraid I won’t be good at at it, and you won’t like it, and you’ll laugh at me.”

Noel blinks. “Are you a bad kisser?”

“Don’t be absurd. I’m a bloody fantastic kisser. Or at least, a bloody fantastic kisser of women.”

“And you think it’s different with men?”

“I don’t bloody know. It _is_ different with men, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” Noel admits. His hand has moved, not to touch Russell’s shoulder but near it, and his fingertips move as through water.

“And you know that thing where you get into it with somebody and you go, Oh god she’s a terrible kisser, and then the rest of the relationship is just you hoping that she doesn’t notice you’re trying not to kiss her?”

“I do,” Noe says decidedly.

“Well, then,” Russell says, as if everything is explained.

Noel thinks, then quirks an eyebrow. “Just one way to find out, isn’t there,” he says.

Russell rolls his eyes and wriggles up on one elbow. “Fine. But don’t...don’t let me kiss you like you’re a girl.”

“Mate, look at me. You couldn’t if you tried.” 

Noel’s eyebrows are as thick as his fingers. His eyes are marked by dark circles and crinkled lines. His nose casts a black shadow like a hawk, and two deep lines lie on either side of his mouth. His hair is a ragged mess, he’s missed a spot shaving, his skin is translucent with exhaustion. But his lips form a tender, tired line, and his lashes cast a thick shadow on his cheek. 

“Maybe I could,” Russell says. “After.” He goes first for Noel’s upper lip first, seals his mouth around it and sucks before nudging in deep. Noel sighs and lets himself be kissed. “Good?” Russell asks between kisses.

“Good, yeah.”

Russell rapidly gets braver, slipping down into the bottom of Noel’s mouth, coming up to breathe, going down again. His hand moves restlessly in the air, then presses flat on Noel’s bare shoulder. Noel scoops an arm around his waist to pull him closer and begins to kiss him back determinedly. Russell allows his hips to move forward easily, arching until he just grazes the heavy folds of Noel’s jeans. For a time there’s nothing but the damp sound of the space between one kiss and the next.

Underneath the midnight pyjamas Russell’s cock stands forward, just touching the rigid line of Noel’s jeans. They haven’t done this before. Always since their first time it was just touching one another, hips well apart. Noel’s hand moves to Russell’s hip and draws him closer, making his cock draw a slow line up his front, then slowly pushes him back again. They both look down, watching. Noel doesn’t put a hand on him. He shifts his hips and does it again, better this time, so that Russell runs straight up and down the length of him.

“Christ, Noel. That’s so hot,” Russell breathes.

“Yeah.” Noel’s hand tightens. His eyes are riveted to the dark shape of Russell’s body as he draws him close once more, lets his cock slide upward so it draws a delicate line up to where the tip of Noel’s own cock presses hard through the jeans and rocks it back and forth over the ridge. Russell makes a rough sound and all of a sudden his hands are moving. His fingers slip inside the placket of Noel’s jeans and, with a quick twist, release the last of the buttons. He looks at Noel, dark brows marking a question. 

“Good?”

“It’s good,” Noel says quietly.

“Lift then,” Russell says, and brings him free of his jeans.

There’s a long moment in which Russell strokes him from root to tip, running lightly over the dark curled fuzz and buttery skin. Noel’s breath starts to run ragged, his body to arch forward. Russell looks once more and then kisses him, more confidently now that Noel is shaking in his hands. He slides to stroke the top side, and Noel’s cock tips down until it bumps up against Russell, rock-hard in his midnight bottoms.

Noel hisses, and his hand slides down the back of Russell’s pyjamas to rest on the crest of his buttock. “Good?” he asks.

“Hell, yes,” Russell says, and Noel hastily pushes them out of the way.

Now it’s just the two of them, bare tips touching. Noel closes his hand over them and kneads gently, letting the soft skin roll in his palm. His eyes are intent on Russell’s face, watching the dark unmoving lashes as he stares down at them..

“Oh my god, Noel.” Russell’s mouth drops open as he arches in pleasure, as he begins to push gently into Noel’s hand. He looks up suddenly, and his eyes come into focus on Noel’s face. “Oh my god.”

Noel blinks and smiles. “Yeah,” he says. He changes his grip and watches Russell gasp. He seems to be on the verge of saying something, but it doesn’t come out. Instead he just watches Russell’s eyelids as they fall shut and struggle open again.

“Fuck,” Russel says at last, and recovers Noel’s mouth with his. His hands go to the back of Noel’s head and twist in his hair. He hooks one leg around Noel’s knee, uses it to pull them closer. Noel continues to knead and stroke them together, and his other hand moves slowly across Russell’s back.

“Fuck,” Russell says again, breaking away. He looks down at them, and his eyes are wide with laughter. “I had no idea.”

Noel grins. He brings Russell closer, guides his cock down into the dark warmth of his own jeans. They sigh as he settles inside and gives a few experimental thrusts. Noel allows his cock to rub up against Russell’s belly, then strokes himself against it repeatedly. “That’s it. Yeah,” he murmurs. He guides Russell to thrust harder. Russell groans out loud. His fingers go white in Noel’s hair as he thrusts three times hard, and he lets go deep in the warm hollow of Noel’s jeans.

“Fucking hell.” Noel scoops a hand inside, pulls it out glistening wet, and brings himself off with a few quick twists of his wrist. His forehead drops against Russell’s when he’s done, and he sighs like he’s run a hundred miles.

“I didn’t think you’d be such a kisser,” Russell says after a time.

“I love kissing,” Noel says simply.

“Is...Doesn’t Sara like to kiss too?” Noel doesn’t reply. He could be ignoring him, or he could be just sleepy. He’s breathing serenely, eyes closed, as if he never thought of anything other than being right here. “When does she need you back?” Russell asks.

“Whenever. Her mother’s with us for the week. It’s going to be ages before I can go, anyway.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got to wash and dry me jeans, don’t I. I can’t be going home in any of yours, I’d be indecent as soon as I stood up.”

“I guess so. Take those off.”

“I can’t here, it’ll go all over your couch. I’ll have to get up.”

“Ugh, nevermind then. Do it after,” Russell says.

“After,” Noel agrees, and slides one arm around Russell’s shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What made you change your mind?"
> 
> November, 2007

“We’re gonna be in the bed this time, mate, I can tell you that much,” Noel says as he dumps the shopping in Russell’s kitchen. Russell begins to dig through the bags, then pauses.

“Really? Why?”

“Pfft. ‘Cos it’s comfortable is why. Crisps in that bag, beer in the other.”

“Is that all?”

“Of course that’s all. Sex, bed. What do you mean, is that all.”

“I thought it seemed like you didn’t want to be in the bed,” Russell says. His hand still hangs over the shopping bag, unmoving, and he looks skeptically at Noel. Noel shrugs without looking up from unpacking. 

“Well, I want to take me clothes off this time. And I don’t want to worry about getting your new place all filthy, and I wanted to be able to--” he catches himself and stops speaking.

“To do what?! What did you want to do?” Russell cries. “Noel Gallagher, if I knew one thing that goes on in that dirty head of yours--”

“To be comfortable,” Noel says firmly.

“Don’t we all,” Russell says. He’s pushing the canvas bag away from a cardboard box. “What’s this though? Did you get some kind of industrial equipment at the Tesco?” 

“No, it’s a blender, from Sara.”

“A _blender_. What does she bloody think I want a blender for?”

“I dunno, mate. You’ve got a house, you must want a blender. I think she thought you’d make smoothies or something.”

“Oh god. One of them things where you spend thirty-five quid on organic yoghurt and strawberries and end up with a giant mess in the kitchen and a shake you could get for five pounds on your way to the tube?”

“Pretty much,” Noel says.

“Tell her I’m honored, and that I shall use it daily.”

“Are you really?”

“Of course not, but it will make her feel good. About the bed, though. Now that’s an idea. What changed your mind?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, changed my mind. I never said I didn’t want to be in the bed on some kind of principle. Come on, get a beer and let’s go.”

“You go ahead,” Russell says.

Noel looks at him. “Me go ahead to your bed? What are you gonna do?”

“No, you go ahead and have a beer. I’m not going to drink today. Stop it, don’t look at me like that. You know I don’t drink unless I’m with you, yeah? I had to quit, my life was a mess.”

“Yeah.”

“And you drink a fucking lot.”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, that’s just it. I can’t keep doing it.” 

Noel has been looking at him, first with curiosity, then concern. Russell’s face has lost its ordinary wicked light. He leans against the worktop in billowy trousers and bare feet, and his eyes flick toward Noel’s face and away. “It’s not about you,” he adds. “You can do whatever you want. It’s just...what I need to do.”

Noel’s face softens. “All right,” he says. “I'm sorry. I didn’t think.” He steps forward and puts his arms around him. They lean against each other, breathing gently. Russell’s hands come around to rest on Noel’s waist, and Noel’s head tilts to catch the scent of Russell’s neck. Slowly Russell’s hands flatten and slide down to Noel’s hips. Noel stirs, but says nothing. Over his shoulder, Russell’s wicked smile quirks once again, privately. 

“Besides,” he says. “I was thinking I ought to do something for you this time.”

Noel looks up at him, all guardedness and suspicion, but eagerness clear at the bottom. “Why?” he demands.

“Well, ‘cos I haven’t yet. I mean, it’s been great but in the end it’s always been you getting yourself off, inn'it. I feel like I haven’t done anything for you, and I just thought it should be me.”

“There’s no should in this,” Noel tells him.

“I want it to be me,” Russell corrects. He blinks once or twice in quick succession, then bends to kiss Noel’s upper lip. He gives him just enough to make him relax and begins to tease: feather light flicks and touches with his tongue, then latching on to suck, gently at first then hard enough to make Noel moan before he pulls away.

Noel sags against him, all his defensiveness gone. Russell kisses him once more, still slow and careful teasing, and one hand comes around to stroke lightly at the front of Noel’s trousers. Noel shivers when he releases him, and buries his face in Russell’s shoulder.

“You know my dad was an A-level piece of shit,” he says after a moment, and his voice sounds almost normal, “But he gave me one good piece of advice, which is never to say no to a blow job.”

Russell laughs. “I can think of so many ways for that to end badly.”

“Well, I’m not going to say it’s never led me wrong,” Noel allows, “But it seemed appropriate at the moment.”

“You just want a reason to let me suck your cock beyond the obvious,” Russell says.

“Aye? What’s the obvious, then?”

“That you’re gagging for it. Go on upstairs, I’ve got to unpack Sara’s blender and put it in a place of honor.”

“You’re not going to use that thing?”

“Of course not, but it will make her happy to see it when she comes.”

“My girlfriend,” Noel declares, “Is never going to put a fuckin’ toe in this house. All you’d do is seduce her the first second you could.”

“What’s good for the gander is good for the goose,” Russell says. “Hop along.”

“I’m not going fucking hop anywhere,” Noel grumbles. “Do I look like I fucking hop?” He tips back most of a beer and pulls a blue vinyl album from the last bag of shopping. He continues to grumble about Russell’s taste in music on his way out of the kitchen. _Strawberry Fields Forever_ begins to soak through the walls. 

When Russell enters his room from the shower Noel is already naked in bed. The walls are white, as is the bed and the gauze curtains at the massive windows. There’s a red velvet armchair and a bookshelf, and through the open door of the closet there shows an explosion of clothing, mostly silk and black leather. Noel’s looking at a big book of urban landscapes, but looks up when Russell enters. 

“Is that where you do your weird tantra stuff?” he asks, pointing to where a shaggy rug is spread out with a few candles and brass bowls at the other end of the room. 

“That’s where I do my weird meditating stuff. The sex room is across the hall.”

“Is it?” Noel says. “But I’m in here.”

“Right, different,” Russell says. He drops his towel on the floor and sits down crosslegged on the bed. Noel’s hand pauses halfway through turning a page and hangs there. “What?” Russell asks after a moment.

“I like your legs,” Noel says. 

Russell unfolds to look at them. They’re long and fine-drawn, all sharp hollows and golden skin. “Not too hairy for you?” he asks.

“I like them,” Noel repeats. He sets the book aside and draws first one long leg, then the other, toward himself. He tugs Russell onto his side and brings him closer until he can tuck one brown knee over his own hip, then leans up to kiss him.

Russell exhales, and one hand comes up to touch Noel’s bare chest. After a time he says something unintelligible.

“Hm?”

“The kissing was a good idea.”

“Yeah.” Noel kisses him again, and one hand snakes down to stroke and tug at Russell’s balls. Along his wrist Russell is already hard, nudging gently to catch a little sensation. Noel ignores it, sliding back to the root of him and drawing forward, letting the fuzzy skin until each ball drops free in turn. 

“My god, Noel.”

“Yeah.” Noel tugs once more, then again. “Get under here,” he says, and pulls back the blanket between them. Russell scrambles to get in, and then there’s a long exhale as they stretch out together. Noel rubs his face in Russell’s chest, then threads one arm under him to cup his arse, and returns his knee to his hip. Russell stretches into his hands, and his hair falls forward into Noel’s face. Noel rubs a bit between his fingers. “It’s pretty,” he comments.

“What, pretty like a girl?” Russell asks.

“Pretty like I like it,” Noel says, and pulls Russell on top of him. His two hands close firmly over Russell’s arse, and he hums in satisfaction. Russell allows himself to be rubbed close, then pulls back to look at him. 

“You’re happy in my bed,” he announces. 

Noel looks up at him. “Yeah?” 

“It’s nice seeing you happy,” Russell says. Noel shrugs, simple and wordless, and kisses him again. After a time Russell begins to move down, kissing and breathing on Noel’s chest. Noel groans, and his hands move to touch Russell’s hair.

“Anything I should know?” Russell asks.

“Surely you know about blow jobs,” Noel says crookedly.

“Getting them, sure. But about giving them? Not as much.”

“No teeth.”

Russell rolls his eyes. “That’s very helpful, Noel. I didn’t know that men don’t like fucking teeth on their cock...I mean for you in especial, right? And like...what do you want me to do with it, at the end.”

Noel tucks a pillow under his head so he can look him in the eye. “I like it all ways. You could swallow or spit, obviously, or let it fly or--or whatever.” His hand touches Russell’s face gently. “It’s all good. Go slow, take it easy. Don’t do anything you don’t like.”

Russell smiles. He slides the rest of the way down, pausing just to kiss a nipple on the way down. Noel readily spreads to make room for him and scoots up against the headboard so he can see. Russell’s dark hair stands out clearly against the white bed and Noel’s fair skin. He takes Noel in hand and rubs him against his lips and nose, looking and touching curiously.

“Fucking gorgeous, you are,” Noel tells him.

“We agree about so much,” Russell grins. Then he opens wide and closes his mouth around Noel’s cock.

Noel tenses, then exhales slowly. His eyes burn like lasers as he watches Russell pull back, suck carefully at the tip, and slide back down. Russell closes one long hand around the base. “Christ,” Noel says, as Russell’s jaw begins to move. His fingers slowly close into fists. He makes a soft sound, then another one. The noise seems to spur Russell’s ambitions. He pushes down further and yet again, seeing how deep he can take it.

He hits his limit all at once and yanks back, face still and body tight as he wrestles with his gag reflex. 

“Hey,” Noel says quietly. “You don’t need to choke yourself. It’s supposed to be fun, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Russell says when he can speak again. “I just want to be good, you know?”

“You are good,” Noel tells him. His thumb strokes Russell’s lip gently. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, yeah. You just...I just want to see you lose it.”

“I will. I promise I will.” Russell smiles and bends again. “That’s good, yeah,” Noel murmurs as his mouth closes. “Little bit deeper. Just get the ridge inside there. _Oh._ Just...suck a little bit. That’s right, that’s right. Now get your tongue up on the underside? Like, stick it out a bit and just curl up...Oh Christ, that’s it.”

After that there’s no talking, just the dark movement of Russell’s head and Noel’s deep unsteady breathing. He leans against the headboard, rock-still and riveted by the sight of Russell between his knees, covers slipped to the side and face bent in concentration. He gasps when Russell shifts to get a second hand on him, and his stomach begins to clench, helplessly. He fights to remain still, then gasps, “Gonna fucking come. _Russ._ ”

Russell lets the come spurt between his fingers, strokes him with it until Noel shouts in agony and relief. “Jesus Christ, Noel.” He stares at his hand, shaking.

In just a moment Noel sits forward and pushes Russell onto his back in one smooth motion. He rubs Russell’s come-soaked hand over his cock to get it wet, then replaces it with his own. “You're fucking gorgeous, Russ,” he says, “Give it to me. Come on, come on,” 

Russell plants two feet on the bed and shoves up hard five times, six. _”Christ,_ Noel,” he bellows, and loses it. Noel holds Russell tight until he’s done, then collapses on his chest and mutters some smothered words into his underarm. “What?” Russell says.

“Thank you,” Noel sighs, and threads an arm around Russell’s body.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s at a fall fashion event that Russell tucks a hand under Noel’s elbow, whisks him down the hallway as if taking him for a blood transfusion, and pulls him into a supply cupboard round the corner. The door swings neatly shut, and in the sudden darkness there’s a soft shush of bodies and a masculine sound of discovery. Then a scuffle and a thump, and the light flips on to reveal Russell half tripped over a mop bucket and Noel’s face white with anger.

“What?” Russell says.

“ _What_ what,” Noel spits. “Where the fuck do you get off dragging me away from my girlfriend, my friends, to put me in a dirty closet and grope me?”

Russell’s face is stunned. “I thought--”

“You fucking thought,” Noel says, bitterly. 

“Yeah, I thought,” Russell says. “Did I miss something? I thought we had it, right? A thing. It was good. And I hadn’t seen you in a bit and you looked so….” He gestures toward Noel’s dark-grey jeans and cashmere sweater. “I just thought.... Jesus, Noel, are you serious?”

“Mm. Did you happen to wonder why it’s been a while since you’ve seen me?”

“Uh, no.”

“Alright, me neither then. I’ve got to go, people waiting.”

“Wait, what? Quit it. What the hell are you on about?”

Noel mimes picking up a phone. “Hey mate, fancy a pint? Meet me at Christy’s in half an hour.” He puts down the imaginary phone, looks around, taps his toe. He picks up the phone again. “Hey Noel, I’m heading down to watch the game. Want to join in?” Again the waiting look. “Oh, a _text_ ,” he says, and pretends to read. “Hey Noel I’m heading down to Givens, do you want to---” he broke off. “Do you know how many times you stood me up in the last month?"

"I'm... I'm sorry."

"Do you?"

"Em. No."

"Me either," says Noel, " 'cos I forgot."

He walks out, leaving Russell staring at the open door.

In the big ballroom Noel gets two drinks and begins working through them. Soon he’s talking with a knot of film directors and music producers, an earl’s daughter leaning in to listen. His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out to look.

_I’m a dick_

A short period of silence, then it lights up again.

_but I wanted to say you have a fantastic arse_

One eyebrow elevates, and Noel quickly scans the room. He cranes a long time before he finds him. Russell is standing at a tall top table in the back with a Spice Girl, listening intently as she shakes her head and laughs. Or at least, he appears to be listening intently, but just as Noel finds him he turns unerringly to Noel and looks him up and down before turning away. Noel colours and returns the phone to his pocket, but before it slides to the bottom it vibrates again. 

_been sitting here thinking about getting my hands around it._

Noel shoves the phone back in his pocket, and when it goes off again he waits four whole minutes before looking.

_and your cock_

Noel’s mouth curls involuntarily. He returns the phone to his pocket, but his hand remains near his hip. The texts come every two minutes like clockwork, and the time elapsed before he looks grows steadily shorter.

_I keep thinking about it_

_the sounds you make_

_want to feel you at the back of my throat_

_you didn’t touch my head_

_the last time_

_why didn’t you touch my head?_

_I’m watching a woman look at you_

__

_don’t turn around_

I don’t want you to look at her 

_the way she looks at you though_

_she wants to see what I’ve seen_

_the way you shiver when I touch you_

_the way you slide in my mouth_

Noel shoves the phone in his pocket and excuses himself. He circuits the room to pass close to Russell, gives him one hard stare, and leaves the room. Russell hastily kisses the hand of his Spice Girl and follows him. He trails Noel down the hall in the opposite direction, past a long trail of unlit ballrooms to a single occupancy toilet. Noel holds the door for him

No sooner is Russell in behind him than Noel is on him, shoving the door shut with his body and pressing up against him, bending him down by the hair so he can reach his mouth. Even as he savagely kisses, his hand is busy at his own belt. He yanks it open and shoves the front of his trousers down, twists Russell’s hair until he starts to go down. He goes easy, but Noel follows him down as far as he can reach, kissing at his face and forehead until Russell’s knees hit the ground.  
“Ah, Christ,” Noel says, and gets his dick well in hand. He cups it like an offering, staring down. Russell looks up and grins. He yanks at Noel's jeans until his arse is bare, and covers each cheek in a long hand. He kneads hard until Noel groans, then sucks down his cock.

There’s a thunking noise as Noel’s head drops to the door. He’s braced on his forearms staring down at Russell, knelt with his back against the wall. Russell goes straight to it, pulling on Noel’s arse to bring him deeper.

“Fucking...be careful,” Noel gasps. 

Russell retorts in a wordless jumble, but the sense is clearly, _you be careful_. Then he lifts Noels arse with his fingers and tips his hips to bring him as deeply into his mouth as he can take.

Noel lets him direct it, following with an easy pumping motion at first, then, when Russell’s hands tighten, with hard short thrusts. It’s utterly quiet except for occasional gasps and mutters. _Yeah. Fuck, that’s right. God._

One of Russell’s hands leaves Noel’s arse and gropes upward, searching. He feels along Noel’s body as high as he can. His hand wanders until at last he breaks away just long enough to growl, “Give us your fucking hand.” Noel hastily shifts to give it. Russell tucks it behind his head just at the base of his skull.

“Christ, yes,” Noel says. “Fucking...touch yourself, come on.”

Russell doesn’t let go as he wrestles his trousers down. They’re leather, and tight, and it takes a few minutes until he’s back on his heels with one hand curled loose around his cock and the other resting around Noel’s base. He shoulders up against the wall, grins wickedly, and says, “Give it to us then.”

“Christ,” Noel breathes, and begins to push. Russell strokes himself in time to his motion, lightly at first, then groaning as he goes deeper. Soon he’s arched up on his knees, hips thrust all the way forward with his head resting in Noel’s hand. Noel stares at the long line of his body, his working fist. “Russ. Fuck. I’m gonna come--” Russell makes no move to pull away. He just strokes harder, with an incoherent sound. Noel gives a full voiced moan, pushes to the back of his throat, and lets go. Russell brings himself off at the same moment and falls back coughing. 

Noel drags him to his feet before he’s even caught his breath and kisses him deep and hard. He’s as insistent and impatient as if he hasn’t come at all, hands groping hungrily at Russell’s body. Then he tears away and begins to shove his clothes back in place. 

He carefully resettles his underwear and jeans. Tucks his undershirt, buckles the belt precisely. Straightens the sweater, checks his neck in the mirror.. He washes his hands and covers his face with cold water, dries under his rings with a paper towel. Then he turns to Russell, still leaned against the door, and stares until he moves aside. 

“You’d better fucking call me,” he says levelly.

“Yeah, well you know what, Noel Gallagher,” Russell calls, just before the door falls shut. “This time you’d better fucking answer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "you never call me" conflict is canon. They had a LOT of fights of this nature on-air in 2008-2009. Russell's attempted fling with Ginger Spice Gerri Halliwell, which horrified Noel, is also canon. He pronounces her name as two hard words, "Hally-well," which is adorable.


	5. Chapter 5

They lay sprawled out crossway on Russell’s bed, breathing hard and covered in slowly drying sweat.

“Glad we got that sorted,” Russell says at last, faintly.

Noel is lying facedown on Russell’s chest, face buried deep in his neck. “Shut up,” he murmurs.

“No, I am glad. Don’t tell me to shut up. I missed it, this. Didn’t you?”

Noel shifts, letting a little air thread between their chests. “Of course I did,” he says quietly.

“Ooo, you missed me.” Russell’s face lights, and he rumples Noel’s hair. “I knew you did. It wasn’t all grumpy bones.”

“I’m not grumpy bones,” Noel objects.

Russell pulls his eyebrows together, makes a supercilious lip. “I’m Noel Gallagher, and I’ve got grumpy bones. I can be grumpy about anything in the world. Cover boy on NME magazine? Old news, I’m sick of it. Awards by the dozen? Boring. Knighthood? Hell no, the queen’s a cunt.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Noe says stubbornly.

“That’s what I’m saying. You’re not grumpy. It’s a terrible...a terrible deception is what it is. You just don’t want anyone to know that secretly you’re a big old cuddly bunny.”

Noel laughs, long and relaxed. “A cuddly bunny,” he repeats. “Is that what you think?”

“No, it’s not what I think, it’s what is. See?” Russell gathers up his loose-limbed body and squeezes until Noel compresses like a toy, and cranes to kiss behind his ear.

“Stop.” Noel twists away. Russell’s interest increases considerably. He goes for behind the ear again, and gets a similar reaction--an involuntary squirm and perfectly intriguing sound. Next time he works a knee between Noel’s legs and grapples to keep him in place.

“Fucking...quit it,” Noel says, twisting hard.

“Hm?” Russell says. “Didn’t hear you.” Noel mutters something indistinguishable into his chest. “Once more, sorry?”

“....tickles.”

Russell snickers, makes a valiant attempt to smother it, and gives up. “Really?” he says. “The great Noel Gallagher is ticklish?” He lunges for the spot again, eliciting an undignified sound that makes him laugh out loud. Russell locks his feet around Noel’s knees and wraps two long arms around him before pretending to try to reach it again, laughing as Noel struggles. “Besides, you do too like to be touched there. You spaffed all over me just a minute ago when I did.”

“Did not.”

“Let me try it again and we’ll see,” Russell tells him. He fists Noel hair for his next try and nearly gets to it this time.

“Fucking...quit it! It’s different when you’re in the middle of it. Besides, you don’t see me going after your ticklish spot.”

“I don’t have a ticklish spot.”

“You do too, it’s right there.” Noel’s finger moves toward a spot high on Russell’s right waist. Russell releases him abruptly and worms away. Noel pokes again, and like magic his body bends away from its advance. Noel chuckles and does it once more.

“Hey. That’s--ow. That’s enough.”

“Not so fun on the other side, is it?”

“I said quit.”

“No, you said you’re not ticklish.”

“Alright, that’s it,” Russell says, and lunges. He gets Noel rolled over on his back and pins his hands underneath in one smooth motion. He bends over him with one forearm braced against his throat. His eyes cloud, distracted, then sharpen. He rocks his hips and grins, making the bed frame creak. “Hey Noel. Did you ever think of doing it the other way?”

“What other way?” Noel, says, choked from under Russell’s elbow.

Russell rolls his eyes. “Penetration. Proper intercourse, you know.”

Noel tugs slightly at the pinioning of his hands. His naked chest ripples as he pulls. He looks up at Russell and lets his eyelashes drop once, deliberately. “Come here and I’ll tell you what I think of proper intercourse” he says. Russell leans close. “D’y mean me and you...you giving it to me?” he asks, almost too quietly to hear.

“Yeah,” Russell whispers back.

“Closer,” Noel breathes. His mouth softens, as though to whisper or to kiss. Russell bends, mesmerized. Noel’s mouth reaches, indicating him to come closer, until their lips nearly touch. Then Noel inhales, moves forward, and blows an almighty breath of air straight down Russell’s throat. Russell jerks back, coughing, and in a flash Noel’s got him pinned face down on the bed with a knee between his shoulderblades and both hands pinned behind his back. The bedside lamp goes over with a thump, and across the room a pile of books slides to the floor.

“Ow. Fucking Christ.” Russell thrashes ineffectually. The crooked lamp casts heavy shadows across his back.

“D’y give?” Noel asks. He grins as he watches Russell’s shoulders roll and flex.

“Bugger right off is what you can do.”

“Give,” Noel demands. He pushes the knee harder into Russell’s back and tightens the cross between his hands.

“Fine. Give. Ow, fuck!”

Noel lets go and chuckles as Russell finishes his cough and digs his face out of the pillows. 

“I didn’t know you’d play dirty,” Russell says when he resurfaces.

“Clearly you didn’t have any brothers.”

“You know I didn’t, you dick. No need to rub it in.” Russell gives one last cough and turns over. “So, no is what you’re saying.”

“No, I do. I’ve thought of it, I mean.”

“You have? What in hell was all that about then?” Russell demands.

“I just like to see that cocky look go off your face.”

“Enjoy it, it only happens for about four seconds a year. But wait, you have?”

Noel shrugs. “Sure, I’ll give it to you up the arse if you want.”

“I was rather thinking of it going the other way ‘round, Noel,” Russell says.

“I know you were, you cocky bastard.”

“So you don’t like to take it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Russell throws out a hand in exasperation. “What exactly are you saying then?”

“Well, I have rules, is all,” Noel says thoughtfully.

Russell pushes his hair out of his face and settles on a pile of pillows. “Tell me about your rules, Noel. I’m fascinated.”

Noel rubs his forehead. “I don’t...listen, it’s the voice of hard experience, right? I don’t take it from a man who hasn’t taken it before." Russell opens his mouth. “From a man,” Noel clarifies.

“Oh.” Russell thinks for several moments, looks at Noel as if a question is about to tumble out of his mouth, then closes it like a fish. “You know a lot about it,” he says instead.

“I know enough,” Noel allows.

“Are you gay?”

Noel moves away, gathers his legs together as if to get up. “That’s...I could just go, you know. We don’t have to do this,” he says.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it--”

“I just...if I wanted to answer stupid questions like that I would have lived my life pretty fucking differently, you know? I’m...I’m me, and I do what I like.”

“Alright. Alright,” Russell murmurs. “Stop that. Come here.” He reaches over and tugs at him. “I don’t care, it’s fine. You can be whatever your weird little heart wants. Just put your arm around me already. Don’t be a twat.”

Noel settles down and relaxes. Russell seems to be talking to himself, silently, while his long fingers make patterns on Noel’s chest. “I don’t know if I want that,” he says after a time. “Being the one to take it.”

“That’s fine, I don’t care if we ever do. I like what we’ve got,” Noel says simply.

“But...I want it the other way,” Russell says. 

“Mmhm. It doesn’t have to be me, you know,” Noel says. “You could get it from anybody.”

Russell gives him a look of horror. “Anybody? Noel, if you think I’m going to give my butt virginity to _anybody_ you’re barking. I mean, I’ve got this far in life. Obviously it’s the only piece of dignity I’ve got left.”

“Debatable,” Noel murmurs. “All I’m saying is that you don’t have to do anything. Just, if you want a piece of my own personal, delicate, little arse you need to know what it’s all about first.”

“Hmph,” Russell says sourly. He curls an arm around Noel’s shoulders and watches him fall asleep. Long after Noel is quiet Russell’s eyes roam thoughtfully around the room, returning over and over to the sleeping form in his arms.

A few days later Noel’s phone buzzes. The incoming text reads, _Fine. Whatever. Okay. Yes._ Noel chuckles and returns it to his pocket.

A day or two after that the bell rings at Russell’s house. There’s a strawberry blonde woman making tea in her pyjamas who looks up questioningly at the sound. Russell waves at her to go on and pads to the front door to take a package from a delivery man. He squints at the unmarked address and opens it there at the door. A moment later his laugh rings out. 

“What is it?” the woman calls from the kitchen. 

“Nothing, love,” Russell says. “I’ll be right in.” He grins down at the box in his hand, foolishly, where a handheld shower head gleams among the packing paper.


	6. Chapter 6

It's ages before they get there, though. Soon it’s deep fall, and then the holidays, and they see each other only at public events. Once they go out to lunch. Noel brings Sara and the baby, and Russell brings the girl he’s dating. She’s a very nice girl, really, some kind of minor pop star. She hits it off with Sara right away, and they chatter like sisters while Noel and Russell sit at opposite ends of the table.

Noel looks devastating in a white shirt and sheepskin jacket, with the baby a vague bundle on his arm. Russell leans against his girlfriend’s chair, trails his fingers over her shoulder, and stares. Noel studiously minds the baby and puts in a witty comment now and then. When the baby stirs out of its blanket, the girlfriend exclaims at how much it looks like him. “Hello, babylove,” she coos. “Just look at you, do you even have a mommy?” Sara blushes and tells her the baby is already musical like his dad. Noel shuffles with his napkin, looking so proud he could pop. Russell just smolders.

After a time they go out so Russell can keep Noel company while he smokes, leaning against the brick wall in a back alley. There’s a weight of silence, and Russell reaches out to draw Noel against his chest. 

“I smell like baby puke,” Noel says, stirring self consciously. 

“You smell great. Be still.” They stand until Noel’s restlessness calms, and watch the ash burn down to his fingers. “I want you to come over soon,” Russell says presently. 

Noel lifts his head. “You want me to--”

“Deflower me, yes. I want you to put your cock in my bum and teach me all the joys of butt sex until you make me come with tears in my eyes from the intensity of it all, but quite gently, you know, so it doesn’t hurt, but also not at all gay. Do you know what I mean?”

Noel clears his throat. “That’s...that’s quite a fucking image.”

“Do you think you can do it, then?”

“Uh, yeah. I can do that.”

“When.”

“When?” 

“Yes, when. When would you like to lay me down and fill me with your cock until you--”

“Saturday,” Noel interrupts.

“Saturday, the day after tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I can do Saturday.”

Russell stubs out the cigarette on the bricks and smiles. “Close your mouth, Noel, the flies will get in.”

On Saturday Russell answers the door wearing old jeans and a faded t-shirt. His hair is tied messily back and his feet are bare, as though he’s been carelessly pottering--but he’s got the door open before Noel even reaches the step. The jeans are too large, and he hikes them up nervously to keep them from leaving a gap over his hips. Noel looks like he’s been in the mirror for ages, the way he’s got every hair waxed perfectly in place. He fidgets with something noisy in his pocket. They stare awkwardly and begin to speak at the same time.

“Sorry, you go first.”

“You go.”

“No, you.”

“I brought something for you,” Noel says, and sticks out a dime bag of weed. “To help you relax, I mean. I know you don’t usually but I just thought. Well. If you wanted.” 

Russell’s smile is strangely sweet. “That’s so…”

“What?”

“Cute. It’s really cute.” Noel manages to look sour and pleased at the same time. “But, do I need it, you think?” Russell asks.

“I don’t know. I've never done it sober on the first time before.”

“What, never?”

Noel shrugs.

“Well, I think we should both be nervous together then. It’s more fair that way, isn’t it. Well. Do you want to come right up, is what I was going to say. Or should we watch tv and pretend you’re not here to have sex?”

“Let’s go up. I mean, if we’re not gonna get drunk we should just crack on, yeah?”

“Crack on,” Russell agrees, and swats Noel hard on the backside.

Upstairs Noel peels out of his jacket and lays down gingerly on top of the blankets. He watches as Russell moves around the room, refolding things that are folded and putting things away that are already in their place. “We don’t have to do this,” he says quietly.

“I know. I know. I know we don’t,” Russell says. His hands are shaking. 

“Come here.”

Russell comes and stretches out without touching him. He can’t seem to decide where to look. Noel rolls up onto his elbow to face him. 

“I mean it. Listen, I was joking, sort of. Well I wasn’t really, but that’s not a reason. I don’t care if we do or not.”

“But you like the idea.”

“Well, yeah. I mean look at you.” Noel gestures at Russell’s body. “You’re… you’re fucking amazing, right. But I would never... You shouldn’t do things you don’t fucking want to do. Just...no.”

“I might like it, though.”

“You might. Some people don’t, some really fucking do. But still. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Cigarettes,” Russell says.

“What?”

“I want a fag, Noel, do you have some.”

Noel pulls a pack from his pocket. He lights them together, bent over a single flame, and looks at Russell searchingly. “Your beautiful room,” he says, as the smoke begins to curl.

“I know, it’s a filthy habit. I don’t even miss it most times. I’m gonna be washing tobacco stains out of the ceiling but,” Russell waves the hand that holds the cigarette. “Old habits, you know?”

“I do know. Calms you down, like.” 

Russell wedges closer, and Noel slides an arm under his head. They smoke until the air is thick with tension. “We could just--” Noel begins, and at the same moment Russell turns to him. Noel kisses him slowly, his cigarette hovering in the air. “God,” he murmurs. After a time he puts away the cigarette-ends on the glass tabletop. They stream, slow blue coils rising to the ceiling, and Noel resumes kissing. Russell sighs deeply as he wriggles onto his back. They kiss in silence, and gradually Russell’s body makes a deeper indentation in the duvet.

“I like this,” he says.

“I do too,” Noel says thickly. He lets his hand slide under Russell’s shirt to rest on his ribs, and his thumb moves over the brown skin.

“That’s nice,” Russell says. Noel just nods and buries his face in the neck of his shirt. His hand slides round back and into the top of Russell’s jeans. He stops, strokes again, and looks at Russell.

“You don’t go without underwear,” he says accusingly.

Russell smiles faintly. “Couldn’t decide what to wear. That alright with you?”

“Yeah. Just gives me a coronary is all.” Noel shifts closer and resumes his travels under Russell’s clothes while continuing to mouth at his face and neck. The jeans are so loose that he’s easily above his wrist exploring blindly inside until Russell pauses to skin off his shirt and open his jeans. He spreads one knee wide and directs Noel’s hands to his balls. They both shudder as his hand drops.

Noel kisses slowly, propped on one elbow with his arm tucked under Russell’s shoulders. His hand makes a long cup over Russell’s balls, and he angles his wrist to let him stroke against his forearm while his fingertips nudge toward his hole. Russell is boneless with pleasure, and Noel plunders his mouth more and more deeply. After a time he mutters something indistinct.

“Mm?”

“Butter. You’ve turned me to butter,” he says vaguely.

“I know,” Noel whispers. He spits on his fingertips and slides back down. Russell makes a sound of satisfaction. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Nnngh. Yeah.”

“Let’s get this stuff off you, then.”

Russell squirms out of his clothes and throws his knees open. Noel spits again and circles broad flat strokes until Russell groans out loud, a rough abandoned sound. “Touch me...touch me with your dick,” he says.

Noel clumsily undresses and rolls into the space between Russell’s thighs. He rests with hands planted on either side, pearly skin caught in the late afternoon light, and looks down. Russell has his hands resting open above his head. He’s naked, flushed warm amber, and he rolls his hips toward Noel as he waits.

“You’re fucking sure,” Noel asks.

“Just...just do what you were doing with your hands, only.... I just want to feel it. S’ softer, isn’t it.”

Noel bites his lip and uses his cock to resume the slow opening strokes around and over his opening. With every stroke the thick elastic muscles grow softer, and the crease of his brow grows harsh with concentration. Russell rolls and stretches. His long arms are shadowed with muscle. Noel slides a hand over his face and kisses him again. His breath makes a growling shudder on Russell’s skin. Russell lifts his head to kiss more deeply, his knee’s come up, and suddenly all movement ends. They stare at each other without breathing.

“I didn’t mean to. I.... I can stop,” Noel says.

“Don’t, though.”

“I need a condom,” Noel says tightly.

“I don’t want to stop, I just… stay right there.”

“I said I need a fucking condom.” Noel fumbles toward his clothes and comes up with a three-pack of Trojans and drugstore lube. 

“I have some nicer--”

“I’m not using the condoms you use on fucking--whoever,” Noel says fiercely. He pulls out and kneels between Russell’s thighs, rolls it roughly onto himself. “You’re fucking sure,” he demands.

“I want that feeling. Yeah,” Russell says.

Noel returns to hover over him and one-handedly applies lube. “I was gonna have you have you on your side,” he confesses. “Spooning, like. It’s a lot like this sometimes.”

“I don’t want to change now,” Russell says. “This is bloody working. Fucking amazing, isn’t it. Bloody...come here.”

Noel eases down. “Fucking hell,” he mutters. “You’re not scared a bit, are you.”

“No. I mean, a bit.” Russell breathes deeply, and his eyes go vague as his attention goes inward. “It’s good. You feel good.”

“Fucking….You’re fucking incredible.”

“Mmm.”

Noel begins to rock slowly in place. “You’ve...You’ve got to fucking tell me, alright?”

“I will. I will. You just...you just keep doing. Yeah?”

Noel laughs self-consciously. “Yeah. I’ll keep doing.” 

Russell squirms. “Good.” Noel braces himself on his hands and begins a slow shallow thrust. Russell gasps and curls forward to grasp his backside. 

Noel’s breathing harshly through his nose. “You like that,” he grits.

“I really do.” 

Noel changes his angle and strokes a little deeper. Russell’s whole body goes tight and his knees contract helplessly toward his chest. “Oh god....There it is.”

Noel grins. “Keep going, then?” 

“Fucking...yes.”

Noel keeps going with exactly the same shallow thrusts, and Russell steadily falls apart. His eyes are vague and dreamy, his brown cheeks stained red. His mouth is open and soft, and now and then a noise escapes it.

“You’re gonna come like this,” Noel gasps. Russell nods. “Good. ‘Cos you’re gonna make me come looking like that. Fucking...let me see you touch yourself.” Russell claps a hand to his cock like he’s forgotten about it, and Noel’s strokes turn earnest.

“That’s right. Fucking love my cock, don’t you.” He keeps up the same rhythm with greater force, and draws Russell’s legs around his waist. “Fucking love to see you on my dick. You look so good like, you do. It’s good to be the dirty whore for once, innit. Fucking... _take_ it.” Russell’s sounds have turned into a full-throated orgasmic moan, and a soft spray shoots from his fist. Noel lets his thrusts turn rough. “You look...you look so fucking right like that. God, so gorgeous. Look at you, Christ, my sweet--” He bites off and comes with gritted teeth.

After a time Russell’s eyes pull into focus. He looks up, sweaty and breathless, at Noel still buried inside him. “Bloody...Fucking hell, Noel.”

Noel eases down and withdraws, watching carefully for Russell’s wince of discomfort. Then he gathers him onto his chest and smoothes his face. “Was that all right, then.”

Russell makes a silent laugh of surprise. “Alright, yeah. Alrighted the top of my head right off. I can’t believe the mouth on you, though.”

“I know,” Noel says sheepishly. “Don’t tell anyone.” He kisses Russell once on the temple and once on the mouth. “And you, you were fucking gorgeous, weren’t you.”

“That’s for you to say, isnt it?”

“You were.”

“What were you going to call me there at the end?” Russell asks thoughtfully. “My sweet what?” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Bitch,” Noel admits. “My sweet bitch.”

Is anyone else your sweet bitch?”

“No. I made it up just for you.”

“Good. I like it.”

“You do?”

Russell nods and pillows his head more comfortably on Noel’s chest. “I like it,” he repeats like a satisfied child. He looks far away and dreamy, and yawns against Noel’s skin. Noel winds his fingers in the dark hair and smears his mouth over Russell’s face, ending with his lips.

“I’m glad you liked it. Bitch.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken some liberties with the timeline of Russell's life. I like to think he'd be okay with it. The third person objective voice used in this story was inspired by the mighty Two Two One Bravo Baker. It's hard as fuck to do, and I recommend it as an exercise in discipline to anyone. It's also used in one of my U2 works, called Belly.


End file.
